


The Thief and the Sharpshooter

by vaderdalas



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: I don't ship it that much, M/M, One Shot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rare Pairings, So oof, be prepared to cry, but this was for a request on tumblr, it took me like half a year to post it on ao3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 12:10:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20723987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaderdalas/pseuds/vaderdalas
Summary: Kaz and Jesper travel to Novyi Zem to visit Jesper's childhood home.





	The Thief and the Sharpshooter

**Author's Note:**

> get out your tissues  
**all characters and places belong to Leigh Bardugo**

The sun, as always, was blinding in the great expanse of Zemini countryside. Jesper Fahey stood in the middle of a dirt road, thumbs hooked behind faded green suspender straps. A few feet behind him, Kaz Brekker scowled as he scuffed the road with his shiny black shoes, sending a cloud of dirt up into the air.

This, of course, did nothing to improve Jesper’s mood. The heat was scalding, seeping through his thin cotton clothing and making him sweat. He lifted a hand to his forehead to peer down the way. No people. No nothing. He sighed as Kaz stepped up behind him, sending another dust cloud toward him. “What is it?”

“This is a waste of time, Jesper,” Kaz grumbled. Jesper turned and saw that his boyfriend was pulling at his collar. He’d removed his black coat and rolled up his sleeves, and his hair was disheveled as he leaned, annoyed, on his crow-topped cane. A nice touch, Jesper thought, but he kept the sentiment to himself. Kaz didn’t need to know that his more-unattractive-than-normal-hair was actually quite ravishing to the other boy that stood beside him. The knowledge would only earn Jesper a sneer or unnecessarily snide remark.

Three hours ago, a caravan had dropped the boys off at the last station into the countryside. Jesper had tipped; they were rich now, he could afford it. They were on a trip to visit Jesper’s old home, sort of an initiation process to dating Jesper, or so Jeper considered it. At the station, Jesper’s father, Colm Fahey, had promised to pick them up, but after an hour, no one had arrived. So the Barrel boys had continued along the dirt path, pausing only once for Jesper to take a piss and Kaz to stop and rest his bad leg. Jesper did not think that the Bastard of the Barrel had ever walked so long before, but he could be wrong.

There were still so many things that were a mystery to Jesper about his boyfriend. First, his surname. Going through the Ketterdam records one time on a heist, there had been no one who shared the name Brekker. It must have been made up. And he still had no idea why Kaz was so ruthless, or who the hell Jordie was, a name Kaz had shouted at him during an argument many years ago, after their first heist had gone sour. Jordie, perhaps, was the greatest mystery of all.

Jesper reeled in his drifting thoughts as Kaz sullenly let out his complaint. He didn’t respond, knowing that there was nothing he could say that would improve Kaz’s moodiness. It surprised him sometimes, knowing that the infamous Dirtyhands, Bastard of the Barrel, brooding, scheming Kaz Brekker, was still a teenager. Well, a violent one.

Ignoring Kaz, Jesper walked on. It was hard, facing the sun. The trudged in silence. And finally, in the distance, Jesper could see it. His old jurda farm sat on the left side of the road, kept tidy by his father all these years. Colm Fahey was a caring man. A loving man. A responsible man. Unlike Jesper, which both Kaz and his father berated him for relentlessly. Colm was meant to have saved them this long walk. Colm was supposed to be home. Jesper hadn’t seen his father in awhile, and he was excited. But where was he?

They reached the farmhouse. Smoke wafted from the chimney, but the farm was in disarray. The jurda stalks were unattended and looked to have been left alone for a long time. Jesper quickened his pace, Kaz at his heels. He knocked twice on the door. No one.

“Mr. Fahey?” Kaz called. He knocked his cane against the window, gently, as not to break it. Still, no answer.

“Dammit,” Jesper cursed, flinging his hand into the air as he turned on his heel and retreated a bit down the path, head turned to the bright blue sky. “Dad!” he shouted. “Where are you?”

Kaz, on the other hand, did not wait. He slammed the head of the crow-topped cane into the window pane, glass shattering. Jesper pivoted, anger flaring in his eyes. “What the hell do you think you’re doing to my house, Kaz?”

“What do you think?” Kaz responded, already halfway through the sill. He lifted his other leg through and stilled. “Get in here, Jesper.”

Fear flooded Jesper’s veins. He scrambled into the house, glass slitting itself into his palms as he fell into his old living room. There was an absolute mess inside. Papers were strewn, drawers hanging open. Couch cushions had been pulled off the furniture, and the fluff inside removed. “Shit. Shit. Dad!” he cried, tearing through the house.

“Jesper?”

“Dad! Where are you?”

He was in his bedroom, lying under piles of blankets. He was alright. But no–he was not. His face was pale and gaunt, and his eyes were dulled. “Jesper. And you–” His eyes drifted to Kaz. “You’re his friend.”

“More than that, now,” Jesper whispered, grabbing Kaz’s gloved hand and squeezing it.

Colm gave a gentle smile. “Of course, son.” He paused. “I’m sorry about the mess. I meant to give you this–I was looking for this.” It was a letter, addressed to Jesper, written by–

“My mother,” Jesper’s voice hitched as he brought the paper to his chest.

“She wrote it for you when she was pregnant.” Colm then turned to Kaz.

“Yes, sir?”

“I know you may not be the most–morally sound–person to date my son.” He licked his thinning, dying lips. They knew it, that he would not last much longer. “But I trust you, as much as I can.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Well, it’s my son I trust, not you. Jesper–Jesper has not always made the smartest choices. But he has always chosen well when it comes to people. If he loves you, so do I.”

Kaz took off his right glove then. Shaking, he brought it to Jesper’s free hand and lifted it. Jesper saw, felt, the revulsion go through him. Yet Kaz brought Jesper’s slim hand to his quivering lips and gave it a small kiss. Then he dropped it, shoving his own hand back into his glove. Colm watched this pass between them, a crease between his brows.

“I don’t know what you’ve been through, my boy,” he said. “But I do hope that one day you’ll share it with my son.”

They stayed with him, thief and sharpshooter, until his last breath came and went. “I will,” Kaz promised. It was a promise to both Jesper and his father. The two of them buried him not far from the house, in the place of Jesper’s mother’s memorial. They had no body for her, but her spirit was there.

Jesper placed a small kiss upon Kaz’s forehead. Kaz shuddered, a gesture that sent a slew of feelings through Jesper: confusion, pity, love, yearning, curiosity. He would know more, someday. But for now, they sat together under the fading sunlight, the day ending in Novyi Zem.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed and/or cried. <strike>If you didn't you're a cold-hearted bitch.</strike> Please leave kudos, a nice comment, and/or constructive criticism!!!


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